


Twisted Confessional

by heartsewnsleeve



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsewnsleeve/pseuds/heartsewnsleeve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She wanted to slap his face, but resisted. If he said that he didn't care, she'd move on. It didn't matter if it ripped her to shreds, she would move on. Molly wasn't a experiment, and she definitely was not a doormat." </p><p>Molly and Sherlock slept together after "A Scandal in Belgravia". The next morning, Sherlock is gone. The past month he has been behaving like nothing has happened since then. Molly decides to finally approach him in the lab when no one else is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted Confessional

"You either care or you don't." Molly's lip quivered and she looked so fragile standing in front of him. Her petite size seemed even smaller in contrast with his height.

But yet, she didn't. She kept her eyes focused and her hands on her hips. She might've been slightly shuddering, but Molly Hooper was not backing away. Even if she thought that she may vomit, she was going to stand her ground for once in her life. She was _sick_ of cowering.

He turned his face to peer back into his microscope and made a gruntled sound. And just like that, she _snapped_. Not the little snaps that she was known to do when she didn't have her coffee, but a real snap. The type that he would surely never forget.

"You know what's wrong with you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes? You think you are the only person that matters. That the entire world revolves around the ego that is your obnoxious brain. You think your wittiness is more important than feelings," Her eyes started narrowing and her voice was raising higher and higher, as she spoke.

"You may think that you're above everyone. _Hell_ , you're a lot better looking and smarter than me, but you're not better than me! I don't have an 175 something IQ, but I do have a medical degree. I am not an idiot; despite what you deduced. You think everyone can be deduced and fit into these little bubbles... people _aren't_ experiments, Sherlock. They have feelings, actual real feelings. I have feelings and I am not some experiment to test out to see how sex feels. Or an experiment that fetches your coffee."

Sherlock went to open his mouth, but was silenced by her death glare.

"You think I'm just some type of idiot who'll let you do since I'm so in love with you, _right_? I'm sick of you treating me like some type of useless doormat. I love you Sherlock. Yes, I love you. God knows why, because you obviously think I'm nothing more than an embarrassing one night shag, but I love you. And if you don't want to love me back, than okay, I will leave... but don't think I can't survive without you. I might not be the prettiest or the smartest, but I have feelings. I am not a  _fucking_  experiment!"

She took one last breathe and stared at Sherlock. The tears that she had been fighting back were becoming more and more evident. Her hands were now clenching one another for support. Her entire body was trembling with an urge to collapse. She desperately wanted to curl up in a little ball, and let out each and ever tear that had been building up for years.

But still...  _somehow_  quiet, sweet, little and heartbroken Molly Hooper held her ground. She'd sooner run out of the lab than let Sherlock Holmes ever see her cry another tear over him. So, she fought it, using all of her self control to make sure she didn't let go and sob right there. She replaced those thoughts of tears with thoughts of how many insults he had whipped at for the last few years.

Sherlock got up from his chair. He had removed himself from his microscope once Molly began screaming. He was a mixture of frightened, appalled, bewildered and fascinated. He could not devise a plan. He did not have enough time. He didn't have time to wonder if his words were adhering to logic or rationality. He didn't have time to ponder if his thoughts would lead to any introspective revelations about him.

Instead, for the first time in all of Sherlock's life, he spoke from his heart.

"Molly..." She wanted to slap his face, but resisted. If he said that he didn't care, she'd move on. It didn't matter if it ripped her to shreds, she would move on. Molly wasn't a experiment and she definitely was  _not_  a doormat. "I do care."

He stopped to run his oversized hands through his disarrayed hair. He lowered himself ever so slightly so he didn't seem so tall. Molly moved closer. He debated between leaving it as it was or adding words. He didn't like where it just turned. He didn't like that vulnerability. He didn't like the idea of Molly excepting something from him. His gray world which he controlled was suddenly turning black and white and it was out of his control. He wanted to recede away again and pretend that this wasn't happening. He would much prefer if it were a bad dream and not reality.

"Molly, I've never experienced with anyone what I have with you," His tone displayed his confusion and disgust of his vunerability perfectly. "I never knew women could feel like you feel. I have never touched a sweeter shoulder blade or a smoother hip bone."

His fingers lightly grazed her arm as he whispered these words to her. Slowly, his hands grasped her waist. Her eyes closed instantly and she bit her lip to contain herself. He attempted to move his hands down her body, but something in her startled, because she jumped away.

"Stop it... stop it! This is what you _always_ do! You always manipulate me! You don't even care to be human to me. God's sake. I had sex with you. The most intimate thing in the world. I shared it with you. Hell, I just confessed that I loved you... and you _still_ manipulate me? Nothing with you is ever genuine is it? You need to always control it and twist it so it fits your plan." Her eyes were no longer angry, but simply reflected the hurtfulness that she felt.

"I-," Sherlock began to speak, but Molly interrupted.

"I don't care what you say," Molly said as she started stepping away and soon she began running for the door.

"I hate you, Sherlock. I hate you more than anyone or anything in this entire world!" She yelled, while running out of the lab. The tears were all over her face, and she had black lines running down her face.

Instantly, the lab was completely quiet and still again. Except for the sounds of near quiet sobs that were barely audible.

Sherlock Holmes was crying tears of grief and heartbreak for the first time in his life.

 


End file.
